Right Here
by tegz92
Summary: Isabella is the first girl to be accepted at Welton, she grudgingly parts from her brother to attend the boarding school. She soon finds a strong friendship with Neil Perry as both of them are headed down a path chosen for them, not the one they want.
1. Chapter 1

Isabella glared out the window as Dean drove the car in silence up the long gravel driveway. Only Sam spoke, he was talking about how this was a great opportunity and how she should be relishing her good fortune. Isabella on the other hand did not agree with Sam, nor did Dean. Both had voiced there opinions about how strongly opposed they were to the idea, but a few unfortunate events had occurred which swayed Dean to grudgingly give in and let Sam have his way. She had been angry at Dean at first but now she wasn't, she was able to sympathize with him and both now had resigned themselves to silently despair and suffer in their own sorrow over there separation.

In her own seventeen years of life Isabella had never spent more than a few days separated from her oldest brother, while her other brother Sam had left home when she was only eight and returned to them ten months prior. Sam had spent the last ten months pleading with Dean that it would be best if she went to boarding school instead of living on the road with him going to a new school every month or two. Dean had outright refused, until the murder of their father shook him up. Deciding that Isabella would in fact be safer at boarding school he finally gave in to Sam's pleading.

They finally pulled up in front of 'Welton Preparatory Academy' the school that would become her new home. Sam got out of the car immediately to greet the man waiting for them. Mr. Nolan, the principle of Welton. He looked old and was going bald, neither of which impressed Isabella very much. She sighed slowly moving her hand to the car door handle.

"I'm sorry about this Bells, you know I don't like this" Dean said turning around in his seat, sorrow etched into his face.

Isabella forced a smile "its ok Dean, who knows I may like it here"

"Thanks for faking it, if not for my sake at least for Sam's"

"The break from his constant whining seems the only upside I can see in this situation" Isabella sighed before climbing out of the car. Dean then followed suit.

"I hear it's a good school" Dean said looking up at the old building before them "Dad went here, he had plans for me and Sam to attend as well, I guess that all changed after mum's death"

"Who would have thought that his daughter would attend, and be the first female student to walk its halls"

"Yeah" Dean chuckled before leading his sister over to greet Mr. Nolan.

***

"Well Miss Winchester that seems to be all" Mr. Nolan said standing up from his desk. "I hope the boys won't be too much of a distraction"

Dean actually laughed at this comment "Mr. Nolan you have nothing to worry about, Bella may be a distraction to the boys, but no boy could distract my Bells"

"Is that so?" Mr. Nolan raised an eyebrow.

Isabella laughed at Dean "He means that Sam and he have spoken to me about not being distracted and that I need to keep my eyes on the prize"

"The prize being graduation and good marks" Dean explained "and once my Bells is focused no boy could distract her"

This explanation seemed to reassure Nolan on the matter.

Isabella found it easy to impress Nolan as he led her and her brothers down into the chapel, where many parents and students were seated. Dean and her father had raised her well and she knew how to act like a proper lady, not that Dean ever required her putting the skills to practice, they were more their if they were ever needed.

***

Isabella found herself seated between Sam and Dean in a pew situated in the middle of the chapel. She and Dean were having a thumb wrestle discreetly in their laps when they heard the bagpipes start and a procession came through and down the centre aisle, and they both stood up with the rest of the chapel audience. One of the boys in the procession winked at her, Isabella stared back in an unimpressed manner which quickly wiped the grin off the boys face. The boy behind him gave Isabella an almost apologetic look. The boys then dispersed off into the sides of the chapel and filed back into their seats.

Mr. Nolan walked to the front of the church.

"One hundred years ago," he began. "In 1859, forty-one boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that greets you at the start of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"

Isabella looked around as the uniformed boys all throughout the pews rose to their feet and spoke loudly and clearly.

"Tradition, honor, discipline, excellence."

Quickly, the boys returned to their seats.

"In her first year," continued Nolan. "Welton Academy graduated five students. Last year we graduated fifty-one and more than seventy-five percent of those went on to the Ivy League."

Isabella clapped politely with the rest of the crowd, smiling sweetly and pretending not to think about how Mr. Nolan spoke as though he were a completely self obsessed old boring man.

"This kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why your parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States!"

The church clapped loudly and there were scattered cheers. Mr. Nolan leaned back slightly, soaking in the applause. As soon as the cheering had died down, he began to speak again.

"As you know, our beloved Mr. Portius of the English department retired last term. You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement, Mr. John Keating, himself a graduate of this school and who, for the past several years, has been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School in London."

Isabella craned her neck to get a glimpse of her English teacher, who had a humble smile on his face and a graduate's robe on. He looked nice enough.

"And, now I am sorry I will have to bring up a depressing subject. Some of the fathers in the room may remember John Winchester who graduated in 1938." A murmur ran through the crowd as many men nodded there heads in recognition of her father. "Well it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that he has passed away" yet another ripple of murmuring ran through the crowd. "Now, John had three children Dean, Sam and Isabella. He had plans to send his sons here, but after the death of his wife Mary that dream slowly slipped away as he could not afford to send them here. But under these regrettable circumstances I have made a few changes to allow his daughter Isabella Winchester to attend Welton this year, I'm sure you will all make her feel welcome"

All heads turned to look in Isabella's direction, and she slid down in her seat slightly. Sam knocked her in the ribs with his elbow and she shot up straight, and instead gave the crowd her award winning smile and a little wave.

She saw the boy who had given her the sympathetic look who sat two pews in front of her. He must have sensed her embarrassment, and he gave her a small smile. She smiled back.


	2. Chapter 2

***

After the ceremony Sam hung back and spoke to many different people who had known there father from school. Dean and Isabella however wandered off to find her room. It wasn't too difficult to find. Isabella looked around the room. Small and blank, nothing she wasn't used to, it was slightly better than a lot of the motels she was used to staying in. There were two beds in the room even though Mr. Nolan had made it clear she will not be sharing a room, a desk on one wall with a type writer and a cupboard. At the far end of the room there was a bay window.

Isabella placed her suitcases down on a bed and Dean started unpacking her clothes and putting them away in the cupboard. Isabella joined him after looking around the room again. She didn't have much to unpack and the chore was done quickly.

"Must you leave?" Isabella asked sitting down heavily on one of the beds.

"Yes" Dean replied blandly sitting down on the opposite bed "I'm not in school anymore, I can't stay."

"Can't you teach here or something?"

"Teach? Like what?"

"I don't know a P.E. teacher maybe" Isabella sighed.

"You'll be ok Bells, you always are."

Isabella's heart almost broke when Dean used his pet name for her. She never let anyone else call her Bells or Bella; those names were reserved for Dean.

"Come on, lets go find Sam" Dean stood up and opened his arms. Isabella stood quickly and walked into his open arms her own wrapping around his torso.

***

Isabella and Dean strolled casually down the halls and out into the courtyard. It wasn't hard to spot Sam; he stood out just like Dean. Both were in jeans, bikey boots and jackets. Most of the other parents were in nice suits, or in the women's cases dress suits. Isabella was in her Welton uniform, a black skirt the fell to just three inches above her knee, black stockings with black shoes, a white tailored shirt with a tie and blazer. Isabella shifted uncomfortably as she noticed a lot of people turn and look at her, mostly boys but a few parents turned to stare as well.

"I hate people watching me" Isabella muttered.

"You'll be fine, delight in in the attention" Dean attempted to comfort her.

Sam turned as he heard there approach. "Ready to go?"

Dean nodded glancing at his sister through the corner of his eye.

"Already?" Isabella asked.

"Afraid so, we're gonna have to if we want to make it to Bobby's before midnight.

Isabella walked with her brothers to the car and gave Sam a hug and said goodbye. Sam then climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Bella you'll do great here, you're just like dad and he loved it here, so you should too" Dean squeezed her hand half heartedly. Isabella could see the sadness in his eyes and she knew this was just as heart wrenching for him as it was for her.

"I love it when I'm on the road with you" She pleaded, even though her heart wasn't in it, she had given up fighting and pleading.

"I know, but it's not safe anymore, it's just for a year" Dean hugged her, he pulled her in closer "I'll see you on the holidays, you can hang in there till then, can't you?"

Isabella nodded blinking the tears out of her eyes "See you on the holidays"

What ever was left of Isabella's heart broke as she watched her brothers and everything she had ever known drive away without her. After a minute or two of staring after the car well and truly after it had disappeared from sight she started heading back to her dorm, tugging at her tie to loosen it.

***

When she was in the hallway she looked up towards where her dorm was, a group of boys had congregated outside of it.

"Can I help you?" Isabella asked not really in the mood for talking.

"Well hello pretty lady" it was the guy who winked at her during the welcoming ceremony "The names Dalton, Charles Dalton" The boy held is hand out "But you can call me Charlie"

Isabella rolled her eyes and took his hand, "Winchester, Isabella Winchester"

"No need to introduce yourself there, everyone knows who you are" Charlie replied.

Isabella smirked "yeah, I guess everyone does" she took a few steps forward "and now if you don't mind I'd like to get through to my dorm"

The boys parted to let her through "thank you"

To Isabella's dismay Charlie followed her into her dorm along with a few other boys.

"This is Knox, Cameron, Pitts and Meeks" Charlie introduced the boys gesturing to each one in turn then perched himself on top of her desk.

"Jesus Charlie, leave the poor girl alone" the boy from chapel entered the room.

"Well Perry, why don't you leave her alone?" Charlie retorted coolly.

"I'm right next door its etiquette to introduce yourself to your neighbors" He replied then turned to Isabella offering his hand "Neil Perry"

"Izy" she replied taking his hand.

"What? He gets the nickname and I get the full name"

Isabella laughed "Well as Mr. Perry is the only one so far to show proper etiquette, so I will oblige"

Charlie looked a little hurt and not wanting to dwell on it quickly changed the subject, "I heard you got the new guy" he laughed "looks like a stiff"

"Yeah" Neil nodded "Wanna meet him?"

Neil led the group next door to his dorm, where a tall lanky boy with blonde hair that fell into his blue eyes was unpacking his stuff.

"Todd Anderson" Neil gestured to the boy.

Todd looked up looking startled to see so many people in his room. Neil quickly went around the room and introduced everyone to Todd. Isabella stood at the back of the room and decided now would be the time to slip out. She had made Dean promise that he would write to her as often as he could. She knew that right now he was driving, but she decided that she would write him a letter.

***

Once back in her dorm she shut the door and rummaged through to top drawer of the dresser and pulled out her father's journal, and sat herself down in front of the typewriter. She flicked through the journal her eyes analyzing her father's handwriting. The further into the journal she got she started to see Dean's handwriting appear and soon Sam's. She stared at Dean's the longest as if somehow it would bring him closer to her. Sighing she put down the journal and began to type.

***

She had only written half a page when the bell for dinner rang. She stood from the desk and straightened her skirt out and exited the room and made her way to the dining hall.

"Izy, over here" Charlie called out to her from his table.

Izy shrugged she knew no one else; she may as well sit with him.

Isabella seated herself between Todd and Neil, opposite Charlie. She sat in silence most of the meal laughing as the boys poked fun of one another. But slowly they all immersed themselves into their own private conversations. Charlie was having a conversation with Knox and Todd was eating in silence.

Neil turned to Izy "I'm sorry about the passing your father; my father was in his class"

Izy snorted harshly "passing? Nolan down played his death a little"

"What do you mean?" Neil's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Izy bit her tongue she had said too much, she gave him an apologetic look "nothing it doesn't matter"

Neil didn't like this answer and pushed her a little further "How can you down play someone passing away?"

Izy snapped "my father didn't pass away, he was murdered" Isabella felt a lump in her throat, the same lump she had successfully buried a long time ago "just leave it Neil"

Neil seemed to get the hint and returned to finish his meal in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

***

Isabella enjoyed a hot shower and was rather pleased that she was able to use the private bathroom down the hall that the boys were not permitted to use. The warm water seemed to wash away all the tension she was feeling. She got out shortly and threw on her pajamas and towel dried her hair and cleaned her teeth. On her way to her room she made a slight detour and stopped off at Neil's room and knocked. Neil opened the door and looked a little surprised to see her there.

"Izy?"

"Neil, umm look about what I said at dinner, I'd appreciate it if you didn't repeat anything to anyone else"

"Yeah, of course" Neil nodded.

"Thanks" Izy flashed him a smile and then made her way to her own dorm.

***

Isabella ate breakfast with Todd the next day. Both of them seemed to be the early risers among the group of boys she knew. There were only a handful of other students down at breakfast when they arrived. Izy made herself a piece of toast while Todd helped himself to the hot food. Todd had finished by the time the others joined the group, all piled hot food onto their plates. Izy nibbled a corner of her toast, before taking a sip of juice.

"Is that all you're having?" Charlie asked looking at her piece of toast with only one corner nibbled at.

Izy shrugged "I'm not really hungry"

It was true Izy had never really eaten much; she was pretty skinny but not anorexic skinny. Dean used to worry all the time about how skinny she was and how little she used to eat. But he was reassured slightly by the fact that medically there was nothing wrong with her being so skinny. Every now and then Izy would eat a decent sized meal to make Dean happy.

Charlie seemed happy with the answer and returned his attention to his food.

***

The day seemed to drag on, chemistry and trig wasn't really Izy's favorite subjects or her strengths but she was doing ok she felt she was understanding it ok. After lunch she had history, which she hated, she liked modern history but at the moment they were studying ancient history which she really disliked. When Izy walked into the English room she was ready for the disappointment of another boring subject and sat herself in front of Neil, to the left of Knox.

"Hey, Spaz!" the boys hissed. As the boy in the front named Spaz turned his head, Knox hit him square in the head with a paper ball.

"Brain damage!" laughed Cameron, smacking him on the back. Suddenly, the door to the back opened and the teacher emerged. The class quieted immediately, and Isabella sat up slightly in her desk. The teacher came out holding a book and was whistling the 1812 Overture. Isabella found this a bit odd.

She watched him with her eyes as the teacher walked past the rows of desks, opened the door and walked completely out of the classroom. She turned around, looking at Charlie, who snorted with laughter, as did many of the other boys.

"What's going on?" she whispered to Knox. He shrugged.

The teacher reappeared.

"Well, come on," he said, waving slightly. Isabella grinned, grabbed her book and stood up immediately, excited that maybe this class wouldn't be so disappointing after all. The other boys followed suit.

As they all filed out into the hallway, she saw the teacher standing there in front of the trophy case that held past graduation photographs and trophies of alumni students. She slipped through them and stood next to Neil.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she whispered back. "Weird class, huh?"

"So far? Yeah," he said. She smiled.

"O, Captain, my Captain," said the teacher. "Who knows where that comes from?"

Isabella looked around at the other boys to see if any of them knew were it was from. Neil shrugged at her when she turned to him. Todd, however, looked up, surprised, as if he knew the answer, but then said nothing.

"Not a clue?" said the teacher as Spaz blew his nose loudly. "It's from a poem by Walt Whitman, about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now, in this class, you may call me 'Mr. Keating', or if you're slightly more daring, 'O, Captain, My Captain'."

Isabella smirked and looked over at Charlie as Keating said "more daring". Some of the boys chuckled.

"Now, let me dispel a few rumors so they don't fester into facts. Yes, I too attended Hell-ton," he said, leaning in closer slightly. "And survived. And no, at that time I was not the mental giant you see before you. I was the intellectual equivalent of a ninety-eight pound weakling. I would go to the beach, and people would kick copies of Byron in my face."

Isabella chuckled, images from the commercial flashing through her brain as Cameron looked around confusedly.

"Now," said Keating, opening up his book. "Mr...Pitts. That's a rather unfortunate name, Mr. Pitts. Where are you?"

Pitts raised his hand slightly as the boys around him snickered.

"Mr. Pitts, would you open your hymnal to page 542 and read the first stanza of the poem you find there?"

"To the virgins, to make much of time?" he asked hesitantly. Isabella had to hold back a snort of laughter.

"Yes, that's the one. Somewhat appropriate, isn't it?" asked Mr. Keating, eyeing Isabella playfully. She grinned back at him as Pitts began to recite.

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old time is still a flying, and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying."

"Thank you Mr. Pitts. 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may'. The Latin term for that sentiment is Carpe Diem. Now, who knows what that means?"

Isabella grinned it was what she and Dean always used as there excuse when Sam scolded them for there childish antics. She thrust her hand into the air quickly. Keating pointed at her.

"It means seize the day" she said with a trace of a giggle in her voice.

"Very good!" he replied. "Miss--?"

"Winchester," she said.

"Winchester, very good," he said. "'Seize the day.' 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may'. Now, why does the writer use these lines?"

"Because he's in a hurry," answered Charlie smugly.

"No! Ding!" cried Keating, slamming his hand down on an imaginary buzzer. "Thanks for playing anyway."

Isabella looked at Charlie and smirked.

"Because we are food for worms' lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die."

Isabella flicked her eyes over at Neil, whose eyes were riveted to Mr. Keating.

"Now, I would like you to step forward over here and pursue some of the faces from the past. You've walked past them many times, but I don't think you've really looked at them."

Isabella hurried up to the cases to look at the pictures. Neil walked up behind her.

"They're not that different from most of you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in."

Looking over at Charlie for a moment, Isabella leaned in slightly, not really sure of what he was planning. There were a few moments before she heard it.

"_Carpe_..."

She peered over a bit to look at Mr. Keating, who was clearly the one speaking.

"Hear it?" asked Keating quietly. "_Carpe...Carpe Diem. Seize the day... Make your lives extraordinary."_

Silently, Isabella continued to stare at the case, enjoying the moment a lot more than she thought was possible.

***

"That was weird," said Pitts as the boys walked out of class.

"But different," admitted Neil.

"Better than Hager's class," said Isabella. "God, I wanted to kill myself in there. At least he keeps our blood moving."

"Think he'll test us on that stuff?" asked Cameron. Isabella looked around, throwing him a look of disgusted disbelief.

"Are you kidding?" she said, snorting slightly with laughter.

"Come on, Cameron," groaned Charlie. "Don't you get anything?"

"What? What?" asked Cameron.

Isabella just smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

***

Isabella hummed blissfully to herself as the hot water ran down over her aching body. She was pleased that she was beginning to like it here. She enjoyed the company of the boys and was glad that even though she missed Dean terribly, she was coping.

As soon as her hair had been washed, and her body lathered and rinsed, she stepped gingerly out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy white towel around her body. She toweled off her hair and climbed into her evening uniform. She tied her wet blonde hair back in a bun to dry naturally as she hurried out of the bathroom and into her own room, where she stuffed her dirty clothes in the hamper and went to the typewriter. She wanted to finish her letter to Dean, but she instead decided to write a new one.

_Dear Dean,_

_Things are going better than expected here at Welton. _

She smirked to herself as she almost typed "_Hell-ton_".

_I guess you were right I am fine here, just like I always am._

_The boys are very friendly--don't worry Dean, not too friendly--and the teachers are helpful and thorough in all of my classes. There's a lot of homework, but I'll manage. Not much else to say right now, except that I hope I can make it through tomorrow, and I_

"Isabella?"

She looked up to see Neil standing in the doorway.

"Yes?" she said.

"Um, we were meeting up for our study group, but...if you're busy..." he added quickly.

"Oh, no, I'm not busy!"

She stood up quickly, leaving her letter in the tray and grabbed her book bag. She looked up at him as she walked out the door and smiled at him. Her jaw slackened weakly as he gave her the most adorable smile in return. She turned away quickly as he closed the door behind her and smiled to herself. It was too late, though.

She had a crush on Neil.

***

"So you have to divide seven 'x' on both sides, right?" murmured Isabella.

"Yeah, and then you subtract the five to get just 'x'," answered Cameron.

"What about this one?" asked Neil. Cameron leaned over to examine his paper.

"Yeah, just replace these numbers here with 'x' for 'x' and 'y'."

"Of course," said Neil quickly.

"Of course, so what's---?"

Isabella, Neil and the other boys looked up as Knox entered the room in a daze.

"You're back early," Isabella stated.

"How was dinner?" asked Charlie.

"Huh?" said Knox clearly distracted.

"How was dinner?" repeated Charlie.

"Terrible," answered Knox, sitting down at the table.

"What happened?" asked Isabella. "Did they like you?"

"Oh, sure," answered Knox, his voice slurring a bit. 'The _Danbury's_ liked me just fine."

"Are you _drunk_?" asked Isabella, disbelievingly.

"Depends," shrugged Knox. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"So, what's the problem?" asked Neil. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Tonight," began Knox slowly. "I met...the most beautiful girl in my entire life."

"Aww!" moaned Isabella quietly. "What's her name?"

"Chris," he answered dreamily. "Golden hair and green eyes like the darkest emeralds."

"Are you crazy?" laughed Neil. "What's wrong with that?"

"She's practically engaged," answered Knox morosely. "To Chet Danbury."

There were collective groans and sympathetic insults to Chet around the table at these words.

"Who's Chet Danbury?" asked Isabella, keeping her voice low as to not disturb Hager.

"This football star from the public school," answered Charlie. "That guy could eat a football."

"That sucks," said Pitts.

"Worse than that, Pittsie, it's a tragedy," cried Knox. "A girl this beautiful in love with such a jerk?"

"All the good ones go for jerks, you know that," said Pitts.

Isabella laughed "we do not".

"Oh, who are you kidding?" scoffed Charlie. "You know you like 'em."

"W-well," spluttered Isabella, trying to come up with an explanation. "We like to think that we can change them into nicer people and besides its more fun to be with a guy who can be a jerk"

"They spoil you with presents and call you 'baby doll' and drive you around in their shiny new Volvos," answered Pitts grimly.

Isabella groaned "If only you knew how girls really work."

"That's what you want us to think. Then _we're _the nice ones, and you still faint when the hot, rich ones take a liking to you," answered Charlie.

"Oh, you're just jealous you can't get a girlfriend!" snapped Isabella.

"Look, does this really matter?" cried Cameron. "We've got work to do, all of you do! Now Knox, open your Trig book to page..."

"You think I'm going to be able to think about trig?" cried Knox.

"Yo-hey!" cried Pitts, as a loud humming began to whistle out of the radio in front of him. "We got something!" Isabella looked over, slightly annoyed as she adjusted her hair band and repositioned her pencil over her paper.

"Alright, gentlemen, five minutes," said Hager. "And lady."

Isabella packed up her books and paper and stood up, making for the door along with the other boys, pleased that the day was finally over.

"Did you see her naked?" teased Charlie.

"Oh, Charlie!" hissed Isabella, exasperated.

"Very funny, Dalton," groaned Knox dejectedly.

"Hey, Isabella!" called Neil, running up to her as she hurried a long way from the mass of boys.

"Yes?" she said, turning around.

"Hey, how ya doing?" he asked, continuing to walk along beside her.

"I'm doing alright," she replied. "Better than I expected, I mean this is the first time I've been away from my brother for more than a few days, and I've never really liked school"

Neil nodded at her.

"Sorry, I'm kinda rambling on a bit, huh?"

"No it's ok, its normal I guess" Neil smiled

Isabella smiled back, "what's up?" she asked kindly.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Really?" she said slowly.

"Umm...well, I guess not..." he said. He paused for a minute. "Err, listen," he said. "I have a confession to make."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Err, okay. Go ahead. I'm listening."

"Uhh...I like you," he said hesitantly. She grinned slightly.

"Oh, okay," she said.

"I just thought...I don't know, I mean I know we can't date, and I know that this is so pathetic and unusual and it's never..."

Suddenly, in a rush of adrenaline, and remembering what Dean always said and what Mr. Keating had also said earlier, Carpe Diem, _s_he leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. He blinked and stared off into space for a few seconds.

"I like you too," she confessed. "So...I'll see you tomorrow, yes? English?"

"Uh...oh, err...yesh. I mean, uh...yes."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I meant to say 'sure', and I started to say 'yes'..." he said, his face flushing.

"Okay," she answered, grinning. "English then. Keating's second class...should be fun!"

Neil smiled. "Yeah...alright."

She waved at him a bit, and turned back around to go back to bed.

Neil pressed his fingers against the small place where her lips had touched his skin, and it still tingled. He grinned.


	5. Chapter 5

***

Isabella sighed as the bell chimed 11:30. Finally, trigonometry was over, and it was time for English. Isabella's _one_ interesting class. She quickly tossed her books into her bag unceremoniously and headed for the door, but not before jotting down the enormous amounts of homework that Hager had assigned them.

"Un. _Believable_," she groaned to Neil and Charlie as they walked out together.

"Get used to it," said Neil.

"Hager's not the worst thing that could happen to you," said Charlie. "We had this Bio teacher, freshmen year. I swear, he'd have us doing a unit a day. Write-ups on labs, vocabulary words...if it was do-able, you could count on it. He left at the end of that year, though, thank God."

Isabella smiled as they continued the walk down to Keating's class in silence. Right before they entered the classroom, Neil pulled her aside.

"You go on ahead, Charlie," he said. Charlie smirked at them both and Isabella whacked him on the shoulder.

"Shut up, Dalton," she said playfully.

"I didn't say anything!" laughed Charlie, walking through the door.

"I know what you were thinking!" she cried to him from across the classroom.

"So...," Neil began slowly. "About what I said last night, that was really stupid. I don't think I've ever done anything like that in my entire life, but since..."

"Nolan says I can't date any of you," said Isabella, shifting over as the boys filed into the classroom.

"R-right," said Neil. "But when has anyone listened to what Nolan has to say?"

"You sound like Charlie," Isabella said, cocking an eyebrow and pushing her way through the door.

"Three years with him, it starts to rub off," said Neil, following her in. She smiled at him before taking her seat in front of Knox.

"Let's go, gentlemen!" called Mr. Keating, sticking his head out from his office. "One minute!"

The boys scrambled to their seats and took out their books as Mr. Keating arranged his pens and books on his desk. Finally, when everyone was ready, Mr. Keating took out his book and began flipping through the pages.

"Gentlemen, lady, open your text to page twenty-one of the introduction," he said. Isabella opened her book to the crisp, fresh page. In large Roman font read the words, "Understanding Poetry."

"Mr. Perry, will you please read the opening paragraph of the preface, entitled 'Understanding Poetry'?"

Neil placed large spectacles on the brim of his nose and began to read.

"'Understanding Poetry, by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme and figures of speech. Then ask two questions: One, how artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered, and two, how important is that objective? Question one rates the poem's perfection, question two rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered, determining a poem's greatness becomes a relatively simple matter."

Isabella flicked her eyes up to watch as Mr. Keating got out of his chair and grabbed a piece of chalk from the board, looking back over his shoulder at Neil expectantly.

"'If the poem's score for perfection is plotted along the horizontal of a graph," Mr. Keating drew a long horizontal line. "--and its importance is plotted on the vertical," Mr. Keating drew a straight line that connected with the first. "--then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness."

Isabella looked over at Cameron as he, along with a few of the other boys, frantically scribbled down the graph with their ruler and pencil. Neil paused for a short moment to examine the chart, and then began reading again.

"'A sonnet by Byron may score high on the vertical, but only average on the horizontal." Mr. Keating drew a bar with a large 'B' next to it. "A 'Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically," Neil paused again to examine as Mr. Keating drew a much larger bar for Shakespeare's sonnet. "--yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practice this rating method. As your ability to evaluate poems in this matter grows, so will..." He paused for a moment, as if pondering then continued. "--so will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry."

Isabella shifted the position of her book on the table as Mr. Keating placed the chalk back down and turned around.

"Excrement," he said softly. Isabella looked up. "That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry."

Isabella turned her head slowly to look at Neil, who shrugged at her, while Cameron scribbled out his graph.

"I mean, how can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? I like Byron, I give him a 42, but I can't dance to it."

Isabella laughed slightly and turned around to get Charlie's reaction. He had sat up in his seat. Class was finally getting interesting.

"Now, I want you to rip out that page."

Isabella turned her head back to Mr. Keating, as his words were greeted by dead silence and shocked expressions. The rest of the class figured Mr. Keating had gone completely insane.

"Go on, rip out the entire page. You hear me, rip it out."

When no one did anything, he shouted, "Rip it _out_!!"

Isabella looked down at her paper and position her fingers accordingly, but she heard a rip behind her. She turned around as Charlie brandished his paper jubilantly. Isabella immediately tore out her paper.

"Thank you, Mr. Dalton, Miss Winchester. Gentlemen, tell you what, don't just tear out that page, tear out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history! Rip it out! RIP!"

Isabella began to tear away at her book as Mr. Keating continued to shout.

"Be gone, J. Evans Pritchard, PhD! RIP! SHRED! TEAR! Rip it out! I want to hear nothing but _ripping _of Mr. Pritchard!"

Isabella laughed out loud as Neil began to rip out his own pages. She grabbed her stack of the introduction and tore it into halves, quarters, eighths...

"It's not the Bible, you're not gonna go to Hell for this," Keating assured the class. "Go on, make a clean tear! I want nothing left of it!" he said, waving his hand and going over to his own room.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Cameron muttered to Neil.

"Rip! Rip! Rip!" cried Neil, pushing Cameron back around to tear out his own pages.

"Brilliant!" said Isabella, throwing a paper ball back towards Knox, who caught it and threw it back. Suddenly, the door banged open, revealing Mr. McAllister, the Latin teacher.

"What the hell is going on here?" he cried. They all turned around in shock, and Isabella had to hold back a smirk as Charlie stuffed a small crumpled piece of paper in his mouth. Isabella's eyes flicked over to the door of Mr. Keating's office, without moving her head, as he came out with a waste basket jubilantly, crying, "I don't hear enough rips!"

"M-Mr. Keating," said McAllister, a bit shocked.

"Mr. McAllister," said Keating, smiling.

_Smiling? _Isabella thought disbelievingly. _Is he crazy? _

"I'm sorry," said McAllister slowly in his thick Scottish accent. "I-I didn't know you were here."

"I am," said Keating, smiling brightly.

"Ah...so you are," said McAllister.

Isabella stole a glance at Charlie who snickered into his shoulder.

"Excuse me," said McAllister, leaving the room.

"Keep ripping!" cried Keating. "This is a battle! A war! And the casualties could be your hearts and souls!"

Keating held out the basket to the boys as Charlie spat out the wad of paper in his mouth.

"Thank you, Mr. Dalton. Armies of academics going forward," he continued, as Isabella tossed her paper balls into the basket. "--measuring poetry. No, we will not have that here. No more of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savor words and language," he added, coming to the front of the class. "No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. I see that look in Mr. Pitt's eye," said Keating, pointing at Pitts. Isabella looked over at him. "--like nineteenth century literature has nothing to do with going to business school," he looked over at Neil. "Or medical school. Right? Maybe. Mr. Hopkins, you may agree with him, thinking, 'Yes, we should simply study our Mr. Pritchard, and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions. 'I have a little secret for ya. Huddle up. Huddle up!" he cried.

Isabella hurried forward and sat on top of Neil's desk, smiling down at him into his brown eyes before turning her attention back to Keating. There was a pause for the boys to drink in their new position before Keating began to speak.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life, but poetry, beauty, romance, love...these are what we stay alive for!" he breathed out quietly, passion coursing through his quiet words.

"To quote from Whitman: 'O me, o life, of the questions of these recurring, of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, o me, o life? Answer that you are here. That life exists, and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.'"

Isabella noticed that Neil's eyes practically shot sparks when Keating said those last words. Keating seemed to notice as well.

"_'That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse'_," Keating repeated, with great emphasis. He looked up at the boys, and then turned to Todd.

"What will your verse be?" he asked. Isabella stole a quick glance at Todd, who shyly turned away.

***

"For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly grateful. Amen."

There was a great loud rush of squeaking chairs and plates as the boys and teachers began to pile food onto their plates.

"Pass the potatoes, please," said Isabella to Meeks. She ladled out a small spoonful. She passed the bowl to Charlie as Neil hurried over to the table and sat down, his head low.

"Hey, I found his seniors annual in the library!"

He handed the book over to Isabella. She looked down, and sure enough, in the bottom of the right page, was a much younger John Keating. She laughed.

"Oh my God! That's hysterical! Look at him!" cried Isabella, leaning over slightly to let Charlie examine the paper as well.

"Listen to this," said Neil. "Captain of the soccer team, editor of the school annual, Cambridge bound," he paused to create dramatic tension. "_Thigh man,_ and the Dead Poets Society."

Charlie let out a disbelieving scoff of laughter and Isabella was grinning ear to ear.

"'Man most like to do anything'," recited Cameron.

"Thigh-man," repeated Charlie, looking off into space. "Mr. K was a hell-raiser!"

"Not surprising. Probably led a rebellion," laughed Isabella.

"What's the Dead Poets Society?" asked Knox.

"I don't know," said Neil.

"Is there a picture in the annual?" asked Meeks.

"Nothing. No other mention of it," said Neil.

"It's either something really good or really bad," pointed out Isabella. "_Dead _Poets Society?"

"You sure it's not, like, the KKK of poetry, or something?" asked Knox.

"No," Charlie said, laughing. "The guy loves poetry, I doubt he'd ever--oh my, here comes the beak."

Cameron quickly stowed the book under the table as Mr. Nolan came up next to the table.

"Enjoying your meal, Mr. Perry?" he asked knowingly.

"Yes sir, very much," he replied. Isabella was very surprised to see that none of the other boys did anything to give them away. Three years of practice had not been wasted.

"Our Mr. Keating," said Nolan. "Finding him interesting boys?"

There were collective voices of, "Yes, sir," around the table.

"We were just talking about that," said Charlie.

"Good, he has a very impressive record," said Nolan. "He was a Rhodes Scholar, you know."

None of the boys said anything, but they all nodded. Isabella looked down hesitantly at her food in the awkward silence. Like that really mattered to any of them?

"Carry on," said Nolan in a low voice, walking away. There was silence as Nolan walked out of earshot.

"Carry on ripping," said Charlie brightly.

Isabella snorted into her plate and laughed as did Neil and the rest of the boys.

"Rip, rip, rip!" she growled, looking down at her plate. The rest of the boys began growling; "Rip!" to each other.


	6. Chapter 6

***

Isabella hurried down the courtyard beside Neil and Knox as they hurried after Mr. Keating, who was whistling the 1812 Overture, same as before.

"Mr. Keating?" called Neil. "Mr. Keating? Sir?"

When Keating did not turn around, Neil said hesitantly, "O, Captain, my Captain?"

"Gentlemen," said Keating, immediately turning around.

Isabella chuckled.

"We were just looking in your old annual," said Neil, handing him the book. Keating looked down and chuckled to himself.

"Oh my God," he groaned. "No, that's not me."

The boys chuckled.

"Stanley, 'The Tool' Wilson...God," he muttered to himself, crouching down and continuing to look at the book.

"What was the Dead Poets Society?" asked Neil, joining Keating on the ground.

"I doubt the present administration would look too favorably upon that," said Keating, with a small smile.

"Why?" asked Isabella. "What was it?"

Keating observed the boys for a moment before leaning forward. "Can you all keep a secret?" he asked.

"Sure," said Neil.

Isabella and the other boys crouched down around Keating.

"The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase from Thoreau that we'd invoke at the beginning of every meeting. You see we'd gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley, the biggies."

Isabella grinned inwardly.

"Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment we'd let poetry work its magic."

"You mean it was just a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?" asked Knox skeptically.

"No, Mr. Overstreet, it wasn't just 'guys'," said Keating. "We weren't a Greek organization, we were romantics. We didn't just read poetry; we let it drip from out tongues like honey."

A shiver went through Isabella's spine. It sounded wickedly amazing.

"Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created, gentlemen, not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?" asked Keating. Isabella exchanged intrigued looks with Charlie and Neil.

"Thank you, Mr. Perry," said Keating. "For this stroll down amnesia lane. Burn that, especially my picture."

Isabella chuckled, and looked over at Neil.

"What do you think?" she asked. Neil said nothing, just stared off into space.

"Dead Poets Society," he murmured quietly.

"What?" said Cameron. The school bell rung loudly over the grounds and students around them began returning to the building.

"I say we go tonight," said Neil, standing up.

"Tonight?" asked Charlie.

"Wait a minute," said Cameron.

"Where's this cave he's talking about?" asked Pitts.

"It's beyond the stream, I know where it is," said Neil.

"That's kind of far away," pointed out Isabella. "Are you sure...?"

"That's miles!" groaned Pitts.

"Sounds boring to me," said Cameron.

"Then dont' go!" scoffed Charlie.

"You know how many de-merits we're talking, Dalton?" cried Cameron.

"So don't come!" said Isabella. "Sounds cool to me."

"Look, all I'm saying is that we have to be careful. We can't get caught."

Isabella let out a short burst of laughter as Charlie said, "No shit, Sherlock!"

"You boys there! Winchester! Hurry up!" cried Hager from the doorway.

"All right," said Neil, turning around abruptly, stopping the other boys in their tracks. "Who's in?"

"Come on Neil! Hager's right..." said Cameron impatiently.

"Forget Hager, no. Who's in?" asked Neil again.

Charlie looked over at Neil with a smile. "I'm in!" he said.

"I as well," said Isabella, stepping forward a bit. Neil gave her a thankful smile as Hager continued to yell at them from the building.

"Me too," groaned Cameron, looking like he was regretting it.

"I don't know, Neil," said Pitts, starting to walk past Neil.

"What? Pitts!" cried Neil.

"Pittsie, come on!" cried Charlie, as the group of boys began to follow him.

"His grades are hurting, Charlie," said Meeks.

"You can help him, Meeks!" said Neil.

"What is this, a midnight study group?" cried Pitts.

"Forget it, Pitts, you're coming. Meeks, your grades hurting too?"

"I'll try anything once," said Meeks.

"Except sex!" pointed out Charlie as they jogged into the building.

Isabella laughed. "Knox?" she called. "You comin'?"

"I don't know," said Knox.

"Come on, Knox, it'll help you get Chris!" said Charlie, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Yeah? How?" asked Knox, his attention now riveted to Charlie.

"Women swoon!" laughed Charlie, speeding off into the building.

"Why do they swoon? Charlie tell me why they swoon! CHARLIE!"

***

Isabella rushed out of her room, securing back her wet hair in a bun. Boys scattered out of the bathrooms in their robes, carrying toothbrushes and combs, as they hurried into their individual quarters. One boy was even playing a kazoo of all things.

"Cut out that racket in there!" barked Hager as he began to leave the hall. The kazoo gave one last triumphant, albeit obnoxious, note before quieting. _Charlie, no doubt, _thought Isabella. She peered through the door tentatively. She wasn't supposed to associate with the boys after hours, and certainly not before bed. She spotted Knox. He gave her a thumbs up. She grinned slightly and mirrored the motion. As soon as Hager was gone, she slipped into Neil's room.

"Neil," she whispered. "Neil, is everything set?" But Neil didn't look at her; his gaze was riveted to something else. It was an aged, disheveled, gray-black book with the words "Five Centuries of Verse" written in gold lettering. She ambled slowly up to look, pressing her shoulder against his inner arm.

"What's that?" she murmured.

"I think..." he began softly, turning the front cover over to expose yellowing pages. Isabella saw "J. Keating, '42" at the top, and below that were the words "Dead Poets." Below the title of the book was printed, "To Be Read at the Opening of D.P.S. Meetings," along with a number of lines from Thoreau, beginning with "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately..."

"Wow," she whispered, gazing up at him. "Keating's book...1942!"

"Yeah," he murmured, smiling. He fixed his eyes on hers and she bit her lip. This wasn't a situation she was used to finding herself in_._

Neil leaned forward somewhat and pressed his lips to hers tenderly. Isabella relished in the stimulating feeling of being in his embrace; she pressed forward, intensifying the kiss and it was right at the point where she felt Neil's tongue begin to slither into her mouth that she pulled away, a mischievous grin on her face. _Got to leave them wanting more, _she thought, having to bite back a snicker at the mantra of one of Dean's drunken rants.

"Thirty minutes, right?" she said, squeezing his hand. He grinned.

"Yeah," he said. "See you there."

"Hell yah," she said, beaming.


	7. Chapter 7

***

As the clock on her mantel clicked 11:30, Isabella stood up, her robe and cloak clasped around her in hopes of warding off the frosty air, a flashlight in her hand. The fortune that she had decided to bring a flashlight was uncanny, but she was just relieved she had one. She tip-toed to the door and creaked it open somewhat. Standing there already were Neil, Charlie and Meeks.

"Hey," she whispered, closing the door behind her. "You guys ready?"

"Yeah," whispered Charlie, winking at her. She had to refrain from snorting in amusement. "Where's Cameron? Aren't you guy's roommates?"

"Yeah…combing his hair, most likely," sneered Charlie. "Kiss-ass."

"I am not!"

Isabella had to bite back a snort. Looks like Cameron had decided to grace them all with his presence.

***

"Here it is! Look! I found it!"

Isabella twisted around from the tree she was examining to pursue Neil's voice. Sure enough, Neil had discovered what they had been searching for, and there was a large cave beneath some moss and bushes. She squeezed through the tight opening and knocked her head on the top of the ceiling.

Figures. She was always doing things like that, Dean thought it was a miracle she didn't have brain damage.

"Oww!!" she shrieked. "Dammit!"

"You okay?" asked Neil, a concerned expression on his face. Isabella, climbing further into the cave and kneading her bruising forehead, found it comforting but slightly irritating at how much he thought she couldn't take care of herself.

"I'm fine," she assured him quickly, as Pitts thumped his head behind her, letting out a cry louder than hers. Charlie let out a cackle as the rest of the boys filed into the cave one by one and took seats around the perimeter, and began to light a fire. Isabella herself took a seat in between Todd and Knox as Neil stood up at the center. The moist cave caused the fire to emit great amounts of pearly smoke that filled the cave within seconds, choking Isabella and the boys. She let out a cough and waved her hand in front of her face to clear, if anything, a couple of inches of clean air in front of her nose.

"It's too wet!" Meeks insisted.

"No, really?" wheezed Isabella sarcastically.

"God, are you trying to smoke us out of here?" snapped Charlie.

"No, no," said Meeks. "The smoke's going right up this opening..."

"It's not going to work!" called Isabella. "Just put it out, we have flashlights!"

"All right, all right, forget the fire!" said Neil loudly over the low racket of the boys' voices and low-grade arguments. "Let's go gentlemen."

Charlie held up a lightly smoking cigarette to Neil and whistled to get his attention. Neil took the cigarette and took a drag.

"I hereby reconvene the Dead Poets Society," declared Neil, opening the dilapidated old book, and placing the tip of the cigarette in his mouth. The boys all cheered and Isabella was smiling from ear to ear. She had seldom felt this utterly euphoric and free. Isabella pushed her blonde hair from her face and smiled up at Neil.

"Hey, you want one?" asked Knox, holding out the crumpled white pack to her.

"No, I don't smoke, smoking kills" she said, taking the pack and passing it on to Todd as Neil said, "Welton chapter."

"The meetings will be conducted by myself and the new initiates now present," said Neil, shining his flashlight on each of the boys individually. "Todd Anderson, because he prefers not to read will keep minutes of the meetings."

Isabella looked over at Todd and mouthed, "What' up?" with a troubled look on her face. He shook his head dismissively and she reluctantly turned back to Neil.

"I'll now read the traditional opening message by society member Henry David Thoreau. 'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.'"

"I'll second that!" cried Charlie, smiling brightly and taking a drag on his cigarette. Isabella and the other boys chuckled, and then turned back to Neil.

"'To put to rout all that was not life, and not when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.'"

There was a small pause, and Knox gave a small whistle.

"Sweet," murmured Isabella, smiling.

"And, Keating's marked a bunch of other pages..." muttered Neil, flipping through the book.

"Alright, intermission!" called Charlie. "Dig deep right here...right here, lay it down."

"On the mud?" asked Cameron condescendingly. "We're gonna put our food on the mud."

"Meeks, put your coat down. Picnic blanket," sneered Charlie.

"Yes, sir...use Meeks' coat," growled Meeks grudgingly to himself.

"Don't keep anything back either!" snapped Charlie. "You guys are always bumming my smokes."

The boys dumped down a load of food onto the blanket. Isabella, not bothering to speculate where they had attained all this food, looked at it disdainfully wondering how boys could eat so much.

"Raisins?" asked Neil skeptically as a large red box of raisins was thrown into the pile.

"Wait a minute!" cried Charlie. "Who gave us _half_ a roll??"

"I'm eating the other half," said Pitts in a muffled voice stuffed with roll.

"Come on!" groaned Charlie.

"You want me to put it back?" he asked, laughing slightly.

"Alright!" said Isabella. "So how does this thing work? Who goes first?"

All the boys looked around at each other keenly. Pitts gave a little cough and Meeks rubbed his eyes.

"Umm, okay we can just sit here staring at each other, or we can read some poetry," said Charlie, chuckling slightly.

"Alright, well then you go, Mr. Smug," said Meeks, smiling.

"Yeah," said Knox enthusiastically. "You'll be the first poem of the Welton Dead Poets Society."

"The opening message was the first," pointed out Neil.

"That don't count," said Knox. "That's what we _have_ to say."

"Alright, fine. Gimme the damn book," snapped Charlie impatiently, taking a long draft from his cigarette. Neil handed him the book and Charlie began to page through. Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise and exchanged "sure-why-not?" glances with Neil. Charlie cleared his throat and began to recite.

""_The Moon' _by Henry David Thoreau. Fitting, no?" he asked. Isabella smiled encouragingly at him and he winked, took a small breath and began to read. "'_The fool-orbed moon with unchanged ray, mounts up the eastern sky...Not doomed to these short nights for aye, but shining steadily. She does not wane, but my fortune, which her rays do not bless, my wayward path declineth soon, but she shines not the less. And if she faintly glimmers here, and her paled is her light, yet always in her proper sphere..." _He paused slightly to give a brash grin. "'_...she's mistress of the night.'"_

***

"It was a dark and rainy night," began Neil furtively. "And this old lady, who had a passion for jigsaw puzzles, sat by herself in her house at her table to complete a new jigsaw puzzle. But as she pieced the puzzle together, she realized, to her astonishment, that the image that was formed was her very own room. And the figure in the center of the puzzle, as she completed it, was herself."

Isabella shivered. Ghost stories were one of those things that she really did not enjoy, her life had been one big ghost story, you could say.

"And with trembling hands, she placed the last four pieces, and stared in horror at the face of a demented madman at the window."

Charlie made a ghostly noise like a gust of wind blowing through trees.

"The last thing that this old lady ever heard was the sound of breaking glass," finished Neil. The boys laughed in disgust and revulsion at the frightening end to the story.

"This is true! This is true," Neil assured the boys.

"Sure," snorted Isabella.

"I've got one that's even better than that," exclaimed Cameron. Charlie let out a scathing laugh and Cameron said, "I do! There's a young married couple, and they're driving through the forest at night on a long trip. They run out of gas, and there's a madman—!"

"Oh, the thing with the hand," said Charlie, miming a hand scraping. The other boys reacted likewise, mirroring the hand motions.

"I love that story!" cried Cameron, seeming thoroughly disappointed that he didn't get his moment in the limelight.

"I told you that one!" scoffed Charlie.

"You did not! I got that...in camp in sixth grade!" snapped Cameron.

"When were you in sixth? Last year?" sneered Charlie as Pitts began to read from the book.

"_In a mean abode in the Sand kill Road, lived a man named William Bloat. Now, he had a wife, the plague of his life, who continually got his goat. And one day at dawn, with her nightshift on, he slit her bloody throat."_

The boys all laughed.

"Oh and it gets worse!" exclaimed Pitts. Isabella leaned over to read forward slightly and grimaced.

"Oh, that's disgusting!" she exclaimed, laughing slightly in disgust.

"What? What is it?" cried all the boys, leaning in to read what was so gross.

"You want to hear a real poem?" asked Charlie smugly, thinking himself too cool to read the grisly poem. Meeks looked up and offered him the book.

"No, I don't need it. You take it," muttered Charlie, digging around in his coat pocket.

"What, did you bring one?" asked Meeks.

"You memorized a poem?" asked Neil.

"I didn't memorize a poem," scoffed Charlie. "Move up..."

Neil moved to the side as Charlie stood up to take center stage, pulling out what looked like a glossy magazine excerpt.

"An original piece by Charlie Dalton," proclaimed Meeks.

"This is history, you know that? History!" cried Neil, smiling.

Charlie cleared his throat and held out the magazine excerpt in front of him. Isabella leaned forward to see what it was. Slowly, he unfolded it to reveal a Playboy centerfold. She rolled her eyes, folded her arms and leaned back against the rock, not amused. The boys, on the other hand, could not have been more shocked.

"Where did you get that?!" cried Cameron.

"Gimme a break!" scoffed Isabella.

"What is it, Izy?" asked Charlie, brandishing the paper in front of her nose. "You don't like it?"

"What are you? Seven?" she said, rolling her eyes and pushing the obscene picture out of her face. "Those girls have no life. Once they hit thirty, they'll have no career, no husband, no kids, no education..."

"I'll have to disagree with you on _husband_," pointed out Neil, laughing.

"And she'll die an old, ugly _bag_!" snapped Isabella, smacking Neil on the shoulder.

"Okay, fine, Miss Buzz-kill," sneered Charlie. The boys laughed as Charlie began to read.

"_Teach me to love? Go teach thyself more wit_."

Isabella let out a huff of contempt at his arrogant grin, as Neil stood up and shone his flashlight on what Charlie was reading. He laughed and then sat back down.

"_I, chief professor, am of it!"_ proclaimed Charlie, continuing to read. "_The god of love, if such a thing there be, may learn to love from me!"_

"Wow," said Neil.

"Did you write that?" asked Cameron, as the guys began to applaud. Charlie winked and turned the paper over.

"Abraham Cowley," he divulged. "Who's next?"

"Hmm," said Neil, looking around in mock thought. "I do believe that leaves...?" All the boys turned to Isabella. She grinned; she decided to relish the attention, like Dean had told her.

"Oh, please, I can't follow _that_!" she exclaimed mock fully, gesturing to centerfold that Charlie had stuffed back in his pocket. She smiled as she snatched the book from Meeks.

"Fine by me," she said light heartedly. Charlie smirked.

"She's just jealous," he whispered to Neil, just loud enough so she could hear. Isabella whacked Charlie on the head playfully with the book. He chuckled and leaned back against the rock as she searched through the book. Poem after poem followed poem after poem...she didn't know which one to choose. Finally, she just opened the book and decided to read the poem she found there. It was a few stanzas from "_When the Lamp is Shattered"_, by Shelley. She began to read.

"_'When the lamp is shattered, the light in the dust lies dead. When the cloud is scattered, the rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, sweet tones are remembered not. When the lips have spoken, loved accents are soon forgot. When hearts have once mingled, love first leaves the well-built nest; the weak one is singled to endure what it once possessed. O, Love! Who bewails the frailty of all things here, why choose you the frailest for your cradle, your home, and your bier? Its passions will rock thee, bright reason will mock thee, from they nest every rafter will rot, and thine eagle home leave thee naked to laughter. When leaves fall and cold winds come..."_

She trailed away.

"A bit morbid," admitted Neil. Isabella shrugged.

"My turn," said Neil, standing up and turning the page to the next poem. "Alfred Lord Tennyson," he said. "_Ulysses_." He scanned the page and began to read. "_Come my friends_," he looked up and grinned at them all, winking at Isabella. "'_tis not too late to seek a newer world. For my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset. And though, we are not now that strength which in old days moved Earth and heaven, that which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts made weak by time and fate but strong in will. To strive...to seek, to find..._." He paused slightly and smiled. _"...and not to yield_."

There was scattered clapping around the cave.

"Alright, last poem of the night," said Knox, looking at his watch. "It's getting late...almost two!"

"Bloody hell," said Isabella, rubbing her eyes. No wonder she was so tired.

Meeks stood up and grabbed the book.

"Alright, me. I haven't gone since the beginning."

Isabella shifted her position and grimaced. Her butt was extremely sore and her eyes were starting to blur.

"I need something to rile us up," she murmured. "I'm beat."

"I've got one...here..._The Congo_, by Vachel Lindsay," said Meeks. "_Fat black bucks in a whine-barrel room, barrel-house kings with feet unstable." _He began to get deeper into the poem, continuing in a deep rolling bass. "_Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, pounded on the table, beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom! Hard as they were able, boom boom, BOOM! With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, boom-lay, boom-lay, boom-lay, BOOM!"_

Isabella smiled, and began to rock in time with the chant that Meeks had gained.

"_Then I had religion, then I had a vision, I could not turn from their revel and derision_." His voice became more deliberate, solemnly chanting. "_Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, cuttin' through the forest with a golden track_!"

Charlie began to clap his hands on every beat, and the boys began to smile and rock along in time with Isabella. Gwen perked up immediately as Meeks continued to chant. "_Then I saw the congou, creeping through the black, cuttin' through the forest with a golden track..."_

"Meekssss...Meekssss..." hissed Neil, smiling brightly. Isabella began to clap.

"_Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, cuttin' through the forest with a golden track..."_

The boys began to chant along with him, silently at first, then with more enthusiasm as the rest of the boys joined in. Knox pulled the barrel out from underneath him that he was sitting on, and began to beat it with his gloved hand in time with the chant. Dust came off in great puffs from the barrel, and the boys stood up and began to walk around in a circle, bent low, their flashlights flickering around the cave, making noises with whatever they could find; sticks, rocks and even combs.

"_Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, cuttin' through the forest with a golden track...Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, cuttin' through the forest with a golden track..."_

Pitts even began to play jew harp, twanging it in time with the beats. Slowly, the boys filed out of the cave, chanting louder and louder until they were basically shouting it through the dark forest. They jumped in time with the music and laughed while they were doing it. Isabella laughed jubilantly and did a little twirl-jump in the air, chanting as loud as she could. Isabella went to do another littler twirl jump but tripped on a root she did not see in the dark, she squeezed here eyes shut bracing herself for impact, but instead felt strong arms wrap around her and catch her. Her eyes shot open and she could see the outline of Neil's face in the darkness, he was grinning at her, and in the heat of the moment Isabella leaned up and kissed him.


	8. Chapter 8

***

"Isabella!"

Isabella spun around from her desk where she had been reading a letter Dean had sent.

"Isabella-- oh, God, Isabella. You have _no _idea what I just found!! This is fantastic... just fantastic... just unbelievable, really..."

"Okay... I... what?" asked Isabella a little confused her mind still on the letter.

"Look! Look what I found!"

Wildly Neil tossed a bright gold flyer into her hands. She took the paper in her hands and ran her eyes down the length of it.

_Henley Hall presents  
__**A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S  
DREAM**__  
William Shakespeare_  
Everett Theatre

(Across from FiriStation)  
_"OPEN TRYOUTS!!"_

"It's... a play," she said slowly, after reading it through numerous times with blurred vision.

"Isn't it fantastic?!" he exclaimed. "Open tryouts!!" he hissed excitedly.

"Err... yes, it's g-great, Neil," said Isabella, a bit hesitantly. "For an actor... but... what has it got to do with you?"

"_Everything!"_ exclaimed Neil, standing up. "Ever since I can remember I've wanted to try this! I even tried to go to Summer Stock auditions last year but of course, my father wouldn't let me!"

"You want to be an actor? You never told me that!" said Isabella, smiling.

"Well, I've never really had a reason to act on those desires until now! But I finally know what I want to do now! And for the first time, I'm gonna do it!" he shouted, standing up on the bed opposite Isabella. "CARPE DIEM!!!"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the bed.

"Com'on!" he said, grinning. "I wanted to tell Todd!"

Isabella found it incredibly adorable how worked up Neil could get about something like this-- being one of the many things that she loved about Neil, his passion. _I mean, sure it was great that he had found something he loves to do..._she thought. But she was a bit worried about how his father would react. Neil had already said that his father had already expressed that he did not want Neil to take any part in acting... but again, this was during the school year, where his father would not be present. Maybe... just maybe he could pull it off?

Somehow, in her steeping session of thoughts, Neil had already somehow told Todd about the "_Open tryouts!!" _and was now chasing him around the room with a paper in his hand.

"Neil! Give it back!" shouted Todd.

"What is th--POETRY!!" shouted Neil jubilantly, still running up and down between the two beds in the room. "I'M BEING CHASED BY WALT WHITMAN!"

Isabella laughed, the scene was familiar Dean would always tease Sam, gosh how Sam stood her and Dean was a mystery.

"Lemme see!" she called and Neil thrust her the papers in an attempt to avoid being tackled by Todd.

"We are dreaming of a new day, when a-- _aaahh!"_ she screamed, making a dash for the nearest bed as Todd took a leap at her. "When a new day isn't-- Neil!" she shouted, tossing him the paper.

"What are you guys doing?" snapped a snobby voice from the door. It was Cameron, angrily brandishing a red notebook. "Can't you see I'm trying to--hey give that back!" he shouted as Neil had taken a detour and snatched Cameron's outstretched notebook.

"Don't be immature!" shouted Cameron, running after him. A positively beaming Charlie was grinning ear to ear from the doorway, and had immediately joined in the chase.

***

_So, if an orchid is an arid climate plant and algae is a fresh water plant... urgh this is so dumb! I'm never gonna be a florist or a gardener, why do I need this?_

Chin perched in the palm of her hand; Isabella scribbled out yet another wrong answer on her Bio homework that seemed to drag on for an eternity. It really seemed like it would never end. She needed a break, she really did. She got up out of her chair, shoving it angrily back in its place and walked out into the hall. Caught completely off guard, she wasn't prepared for the streak of a boy that flew down the hallway shouting loudly.

"Charlie! I got the part!!!"

Isabella grinned. It could only be one person.

"I'M GONNA PLAY PUCK!!!" screamed Neil to Pitts and Meeks through their headphones. A huge smile broke out over her face.

"Neil!" she cried. He turned around and flew towards her.

"I got the part, Izy!" he shouted.

"That's fantastic!!" she squealed. "Congratulations!"

She had never seen Neil this hyper before, but she had very little time to brood on the matter, as Neil sped off into his room where Todd clapped him on the back. Neil sat down at the desk in front of the typewriter.

"Okay," he said his hands out in front of him.

"So what do you have to do?" asked Isabella, giving Todd a friendly wink.

"I need a letter of permission from my father and Mr. Nolan," said Neil breathlessly.

"Well, _you're _not gonna write it," said Todd quickly.

"Oh yes, I am!" laughed Neil.

Isabella laughed; never had she imagined that a _Welton_ boy would do something this rebellious.

"You're crazy!" cried Todd. Neil just laughed jubilantly and began to type. "_I... am ... writing to you... on behalf of... my son . . . Neil... Perry_."

Neil laughed and stomped his feet on the ground. "This is great!" he laughed. Isabella whacked him over the head with a stack of papers that was lying on the desk playfully.

"Alright, I'm off to bed," she said with a note of finality. "I won't be a part of this."

"Hey, listen," said Neil quickly, scooting back from the table. "You can't tell _anyone _about this letter thing, okay? Not even Charlie. If it slips out, my father could find out."

Isabella nodded. "Alright."

"Promise me," said Neil, his eyes filled with worry. Isabella gave him a smile. She had no idea this meant so much to him.

"I swear it on the Bible, alright?" she said, her hand on his forearm. "See you tomorrow, okay?"

Neil peered around to see if the coast was clear, and then kissed her swiftly on the lips before departing back into his own room. Isabella smiled and turned back to her own room. She was exhausted.


	9. Chapter 9

***

Isabella was seated at the breakfast table with the rest of the boys, she was laughing with Charlie when she saw Mr. Nolan down the other end of the hall. She froze; her smile was wiped from her face when she saw the two men that stood with Nolan.

"Izy? Whats wrong" Charlie looked concerned now.

Neil turned to Isabella squeezing her hand "What is it?"

Isabella stood up and strode quickly towards Nolan. Sam and Dean looked up and saw her coming.

Sam stepped back outside of the hall, while Dean reached out and grabbed Isabella's hand and led her out. The brothers led her outside and onto the oval in silence.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked.

"I dunno, but it doesn't look good" Neil replied standing up.

Knox, Meeks, Todd, Charlie, Cameron and Neil all followed the path Isabella had taken and stopped on the stairs and watched as the two men marched Isabella out onto the oval.

"Dean, please what's happened?" Isabella pleaded.

"Iz..." Sam's voice trailed away and he looked off into the distance.

Dean took a deep breath and looked Isabella in the eye; his own eyes were filled with sorrow and sadness. "Bella..." he paused "Bobby... he's uh... Well Bobby's dead."

Isabella stood rooted to the spot the news still sinking in.

"The cops don't know if it was arson or an accident" Sam added.

Isabella's hand flew to her mouth where she tried to stifle her sobs. Dean's arms wrapped around her immediately; her body shook and her knees gave way and she and Dean both sunk to the ground. Dean cradled his sister as she sobbed over the loss of the man who had been more of a father to her than her real one. Sam's eyes softened and he too joined his siblings on the ground his arm fell over his sisters' shoulders comfortingly.

The Dead Poets looked on in shock as they saw Isabella's hand go to her mouth and her shoulder shake. One of the men with her wrapped his arms around her as they sunk to the ground where the other man soon joined them his arm falling over Isabella's shoulders in a comforting and protective gesture. They watched as Isabella sobbed in the arms of these two men.

Neil took a few steps forward, in horror, he had no idea what was going on. Soon enough all the boys ran over before any of them really knew what they were doing.

"Izy, whats wrong?" Neil's concerned voice flooded Izy's ears. She looked up at him her tear stained face seemed to shock all the boys; she quickly hid it in Dean's chest again.

Sam looked down sympathetically on his sister "it's just some family business" he answered.

"What's happened?" Charlie asked.

Dean sighed he knew the boys weren't gonna leave till they got the information. "Her god father was killed in a fire, police don't know if it was an accident or if someone purposefully lit it."

"When will it stop?" Isabella asked sitting up staring at Dean. "I'm sick of being surrounded by death" she shook her head "First mum, then Ash died in that fire, then Elkins, then Ellen, then Uncle Ben, then Dad and now Bobby" Isabella listed. "How many more people have to die before it stops?"

Silence greeted her, no one spoke. None of the boys moved, not even Sam or Dean.

"Just one" Sam said defiantly.

Dean looked at Sam and nodded "just Gordon."


End file.
